


Another Nine Days

by notabadday



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notabadday/pseuds/notabadday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the immediate aftermath of the Season 2 finale 'S.O.S.', Fitz reacts to what happened to Simmons. But when they get her back, will things be changed between them once again? </p><p>  <i>What if she had gone off to get ready for their date? A bit early, he noted, but the notion that she was thinking about him and preparing for it made him feel warm and dizzy. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Key

Fitz was scrolling through Google results, wondering which of the many ostensibly identical Italian eateries was preferable, or whether he had made a wrong turn with Italian and should return to the drawing board. He'd eaten pizza, pasta and even a few wildcard calzones with Simmons a hundred times. For two years at the academy, they'd devoted every Friday night to ordering in pizza while they analysed every frame of whichever Battlestar Galactica episode they were up to, with Fitz always taking the opportunity to question the legitimacy of pineapple as a pizza topping ("It's fruit! Fruit on a pizza!" he would exclaim with theatrical outrage, as Simmons calmly replied, "So is tomato, Fitz.").

 Things were different now though. Simmons saw him differently now. For months he'd struggled with the feeling that she was looking for a different version of him, the original. But her words, "Maybe there is," rang in his ears. ... _Something to talk about? ...Something between us?_ He wondered if Simmons seeing him differently might not be such a bad thing. He wondered if maybe it had been just exactly what he'd wanted all along.

 It felt as though the entire fate of their relationship rested on the success of this one dinner. Suddenly, every cuisine Fitz could think of was either too casual or too stuffy for the occasion. Italian seemed like the closest thing to balance, but as he browsed through the many Italian restaurants within a reasonable distance, there seemed a multitude of other things to consider, not the least of which was that if he didn't make a decision soon, they may not be able to take his reservation.

 Coulson interrupted Fitz's little panic, walking into the lab to ask, "Have you seen Simmons?"

 "She was by the stone, last time I, uh... last time I saw her.” Coulson accepted this without a word, turning on his heels, before Fitz suggested, "Maybe she's in her room."

 As he thought about his old lab partner, he couldn't help but slip into a smile. What if she had gone off to get ready for their date? A bit early, he noted, but the notion that she was thinking about him and preparing for it made him feel warm and dizzy.

 He went back to his computer and the array of dinner options feeling heartened, a smile fixed on his face. He quickly narrowed down his options, tied between two nearby family-run Italian restaurants. Simmons would choose warm and cosy over flash and fancy any day of the week, he reasoned. He looked at the menus, noticing that only one of them had a known Jemma Simmons favorite on it and knew that finally, _finally_ , he had made his decision.

 Within seconds of Fitz's minor victory, a sudden rush of bodies flew past the lab. He took no notice to begin with, his brain taking an extra beat to determine the faces: Coulson, Hunter, Skye, May. Coulson? Coulson was looking for Simmons last that Fitz knew. And they were moving in the direction of that room, where he'd last seen her.

 Simmons' love for fiorentina pizza moving to the back of his mind, Fitz hastened after them. He walked in as Coulson offered his trademark look of concern to his team, though he hadn't intended for Fitz to catch sight of it.

 "Fitz," Skye said, as though caught in a lie. She moved her lips to speak further but found no words.

 He looked around, curiosity growing desperate. It was as though he knew but defended the hope that his instincts were wrong as long as he could, eventually mustering up his question, disguised merely as casual concern: "Where's Simmons?"

 The team looked at each other and then at the stone.

 "Well, I don't know why you're all looking at that hunk of rock. She's not in there!" he exclaimed, in such a frustrated, ridiculous tone that he sounded just like the Fitz they'd always known, berating Simmons for bringing smelly carcasses into their lab. No one said anything, exchanging the smallest of glances among themselves but avoiding Fitz's eye-line. The laugh not coming, Fitz's eyes began to widen, his body fixed in its spot facing Coulson. As he began to feel the tremble of his hands, he drew them together, wringing them as he dared himself to understand: "She's in the stone?!"

 May and Skye glared at Coulson, pressing him to offer Fitz the only mercy they could: answers.

 "We ran the back the tapes," Coulson began, gesturing to a camera in the corner of the room, "and it appeared that the stone's state of matter transformed, becoming liquid long enough to engulf Agent Simmons before returning to stone. It could be a transportation device or she could  be-"

 "No," Fitz interrupted firmly. "We need to investigate whether there's been... whether any similar stones have been identified. Skye, can you look through S.H.I.E.L.D. records? Maybe there's... something." He paused a minute, his mind calibrating the new information, attempting to maintain composure as he determinedly fought to still his trembling hands. "You need to show me the footage."

 "We'll get her back, mate," Hunter offered supportively.

 Coulson accepted Fitz's demands, the low-key coup not seeming to faze him. Skye and Hunter disappeared out the door on the research mission that Fitz had commanded while Coulson and May led Fitz back to Coulson's office, the experienced agents choosing to naively hope that Fitz might have a better read on things than they did.

 It was only as the short clip ended on Fitz's fifth viewing that he finally broke his silence to whisper to himself: "I opened the door. It was my fault." Sat at the desk, Coulson and May behind each shoulder, he hid his shaking hands under the table, placing a palm on each thigh in the hope that holding them flat would still them.

 “You can’t blame yourself,” May quietly assured him.

 "The door is secured now to prevent it happening again. Lock and key," Coulson said coolly. "Fitz?"

 "I need to examine the stone. I'm going to need to unlock that door."

 "It's not secure. We don't know what it is and I'm not going to allow you to gamble your life on it. That's not how this works, Agent Fitz. You'll have to examine the stone as best you can from outside the secure chamber."

 "Sir," Fitz began, rising from the chair to Coulson's height. "I _am_ going to get Simmons back, and I'm going to do whatever I need to do to make that happen. Give me the key."

 Coulson and May looked at Fitz, struck by how unusually tall and how oddly intimidating he appeared, even to them. His hands had stilled, his body rigid as he faced his superior with a seemingly impervious display of determination.

 "We don't know what that thing is capable of, Fitz." Coulson spoke now with a more consolatory tone, concern etched into his expression.

 "Exactly why I need a closer look if we're going to get Simmons back." Fitz toyed with words like 'save' and 'rescue' but the implications were too much, the reality too heavy if it truly was a rescue. He had to believe she was just out there, lost somewhere. He pictured her saying, "Took you long enough, Fitz!" with an eye-roll and a smile - one of her best ones, one that she had saved just for him.

 "Give him the key, Phil."

 “May…” Coulson began.

 “Give him the key,” May repeated more firmly.

 They stared each other down briefly before Coulson relented. He put his hand out to pass the small silver key into Fitz's open palm. As soon as the cool metal touched his skin, Fitz tightened his grip and moved to the door, rushing back to the stone. Time was of the essence.

 Fitz fumbled with the lock, frantic to get the chamber door open. When it did release, he opened the door wide and stood there expectantly. Nothing. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the unresponsive stone wondering why the hell it was suddenly being so picky. Fitz reached a hand out to touch the stone. Still nothing. His frustration grew, prompting him to step into the glass chamber, hitting it impotently like he'd suddenly snapped at the school bully. He pressed against the stone, his forehead resting against it as though it might telepathically take Fitz's command and swallow him up or, if she had been absorbed by the stone, perhaps the extrasensory perception between them that he'd always suspected would at last be confirmed. A cry came out of him, desperate pain transforming a sob into a scream, tearing through his throat out into the open air. Much like his physical efforts, the noise did nothing. It hung there, empty. 

 When Coulson came in, Fitz was slumped against it. As soon as he realized that he had company, he walked away, forced to accept that wherever the damn stone had taken Simmons, if anywhere, he was being left behind. Coulson closed the door, looking a little edgy as he quickly secured the lock once more.

 

***

 

Skye found Fitz alone in one of the storage rooms, trembling and muttering to Jemma. It was as though, despite not taking Fitz, that mysterious stone had sucked all of the strength out of him. He looked childlike. He was curled up against the wall, knees tight against his chest, hands shaking against his legs. Skye watched him unnoticed. She stood in his direct line of view and yet he seemed unmoved. For a moment, she wondered if he was even there with her. It was a harsh flashback to the days after the coma, days and days of disappearing. One minute he would be there, understanding and remembering, the next, gone without a trace.

 Skye sunk down against the wall to sit beside Fitz on the floor, her knee brushing against his. It was only when she was close up against him that Skye noticed the glisten of fallen tears on his cheeks and the way his face tightened when she caught sight of his shaking hands. In one fluid motion, she moved to rest her head on his shoulder while taking his hand, locking her fingers between his to feel the trembling begin to ease.

 "It was my fault."

 "You're like my best friend, I love you and I know this is hard for you, but that's honestly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Okay?" Skye said warmly, both her eyebrows raised. "Everybody knows, _Simmons_ knows, you'd never do a thing to hurt her."

 "I did, though," he replied, though grateful for Skye’s use of the present tense and the implication that Jemma _is_ somewhere.

 "Fitz, if it weren't for what you did for her at the bottom of the ocean, she would never have survived then. You helped save her life when she had the virus. You can give yourself a pass on weird alien rocks coming to life," she insisted as she tightened her grip on his hand.

 He said nothing, staring straight ahead. It was better than talking to himself, Skye figured.

 Speaking softly, she changed the subject: "Did you see the smile on her face? Right before it happened."

 Fitz looked up at Skye for the first time in their conversation, quietly, contentedly replying, "Yeah." A small smile crept onto his face but he let it go before it could settle. “And then she just looked so scared.”

"Listen, I found connections to some of the symbols we've analyzed on the rock itself,” Skye began explaining, her tone becoming more formal as she changed tact. “And Coulson’s been looking for any reports of similar incidents.”

 “I can scan the stone and get it on the holotable. I’ll see if I can get further information from that.”


	2. On Tiptoes

It took days. It felt like longer, months or years even, but it was nine days. They ran test after test on the stone, searched a thousand times through S.H.I.E.L.D. archives for any kind of clues, any signs of hope. Sleepless nights blended into days. It took a little bit from everyone and a lot from Fitz. He looked ill. His face had grown pale and gaunt, with deep lines beneath his eyes and facial hair that was beginning to cross the line between stubble and a full beard.

 It seemed like it was going nowhere. And then suddenly it all came together, every piece of the puzzle falling neatly into place, directing them straight to her.

 When they found her, she was calm. Silent for a minute, looking around at everyone before Skye took her in a warm, enthusiastic embrace. She smiled, tired but okay, and began to explain, “I’ve examined some of the markings and there are several things we’ll need taken back to the lab for further analysis.”

 “We’ll take care of that, Agent Simmons,” Coulson replied with a nod, adding: “It’s good to see you.”

 “It’s good to see you too, sir,” she sighed, a relieved smile appearing across her face.

 Skye hugged her again before moving away, allowing her some space. Fitz just watched, frozen, hands glued to his sides. Simmons had avoided looking at him, smiling weakly at every other person on the team that had come to find her. In the corner of her eye she caught sight of Hunter, who was standing at Fitz’s side, moving his arm casually over Fitz’s shoulder. It turned her attention to look at him properly for the first time, seeing as he bowed his head when Hunter whispered, “She’s alright, mate.” It wasn’t meant for anyone else’s ears, certainly not hers, so she looked away and pretended not to hear it, blinking away the tears that were beginning to form. She had seen him now, pale and unkempt and solemn. He was so different to the last time they had been together.

 “Fitz,” she said as she approached him, reaching an arm around his neck as he awkwardly took her in a hug. His body remained rigid, with everybody’s eyes on them. When they came apart, he looked at her only for a second.

  

***

 

Fitz had remained quiet for the journey back, occasionally allowing himself glances at Simmons who sat in silence, absently holding Skye’s hand. When they got back to the playground, he had broken off from the group and gone into the storage room while Skye fussed over Simmons. As soon as he heard the door close behind him, he began fiddling with things on the shelves, desperate to give his hands something to do as he felt them begin to tremble. It was just as well he hadn’t been the inhuman, he thought to himself, or else the earthquakes would be a constant. He closed his eyes, tears slipping through to hang on his eyelashes.

 The door opened and shut behind him, a hand softly brushing across his shoulder prompting him to turn around. Simmons wrapped him in a hug immediately, and they both dropped their heads against one another.

 “I’m sorry, Jemma. I’m so sorry.”

 “I missed you,” she whispered, tightening her hold on him. “But I’m okay. Okay?”

 They pulled apart, allowing Fitz to look at her face properly. She gave a sweet smile, consoling and reassuring him all at once, before reaching her steady hand up to his cheek and wiping away a tear. He could only think about the last time they were so close to each other, physically face-to-face, and felt his breath hitch at the memory.

 “You wally,” she said, smiling a little brighter and brushing her palm across his cheek. He grinned at that. Then she reached down for his hand and as she took it in hers, lifting it between them, felt it begin to still. “Did you make a decision about dinner?”

 It took his breath away, his eyebrows lifting just a little. “I was thinking Italian?”

 Jemma nodded, beaming. She watched him blinking heavily and the way he forced another smile, a façade of ease and strength all for her benefit. She could see glimpses of vulnerability creeping through, the truth of his ordeal plain for her to see. There was such warmth in his eyes that she could feel love pouring out of him, with glances away seeming like nervous attempts to shield her from it, its weight almost too great a burden. Her gaze was fixed on him, though. Lifting herself up a little on her tiptoes, she kissed him tenderly. She felt the corners of his mouth lift against her lips and deepened their kiss as his hands moved to her back.

 “You’re, uh… very passionate about Italian food,” Fitz remarked as they came apart, flustered and giddy.

 Her nose crinkled just a little as she grinned at him. “Yes,” she replied with a laugh, before adding: “In fact, I’m in love with Italian food.”

 Fitz blushed. Bashfully, he scratched the back of his neck as he searched for the perfect reply. Just as he thought he had it, he looked again at her face, shining and beautiful and everything he’d been dreaming of, and stammered, “I can make it an early reservation.”

 She rolled her eyes. Then she kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always greatly appreciated.


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